Freeze and Thaw
by Elysian Stars
Summary: How Felix was shaped by his years in Prox, and how his later adventures helped to bring him peace of mind.


**Freeze and Thaw**

**Part One**

His memories of that day, when his life was swept off course forever, were ragged and confused. Vale's river, formerly safe and familiar, had almost drowned him in crushing, roaring cold. Two fierce strangers, with scaled skin like nothing he'd seen before, had saved him. Or so he gathered, through his semi-conscious shivering on a stretch of muddy bank, coughing out water in sharp, painful gasps. He recalled a woman crying, and supposed it must have been his mother, though he'd never heard her cry before. Snatches of an argument, but he didn't have the strength to pay attention. A fire's heat, taking the edge off his misery. After that, he must have sunk into exhausted sleep.

Later there was another argument, between the strangers. _Let's leave them_, one said. _They'll only slow us down_.

_They'll manage_, the other insisted. _And we might need help, now the others are gone._ That led to a sombre silence, weighted with things Felix didn't understand at the time. He couldn't remember who had been supporting which viewpoint.

After that, things became clearer. Dragged through unfamiliar terrain, his parents upset again, in a new way. _Just let Felix go_, his father had pleaded. _He's just a boy. Let him go home to his sister. _

_Could he really make it back alone?_ asked the woman. _We're doing you a favour, bringing him with us rather than abandoning him._

Frustratingly, nobody could argue with that. As they travelled, wild creatures attacked them, things never seen within Vale's safe borders. The strangers dealt with them easily, wielding flaming blasts of Psynergy, but Felix was still sickly, not fit to swing a sword, and a late bloomer when it came to the Adept arts. Jenna could already light things on fire – and did so with worrying enthusiasm – and he could barely Move a rock, or Cure any hurt greater than a splinter (and his hands had been badly cut and scratched, where he'd clung for his life to that boulder in the river). He missed Jenna. He was glad she wasn't here.

There were whispers of escaping as a group, but they came to nothing. His father had a broken arm, and Isaac's father was feverish and struggling to eat. They had to stick together, with these people who were leading them into a daunting unknown.

* * *

In Madra, Felix was glad when everyone agreed to help free the prisoner, without reservations. Then again, all four of them could sympathise to some degree, had known the press of captivity when Sarturos and Menardi were around. He'd never been able to stop it. Not with Jenna and Kraden in Sol Sanctum, and not with Sheba later on – and it was always dressed up the same way, saving them from trouble and then refusing to let them go, that awkward taint of obligation (though they might have freed Jenna, if she hadn't refused to leave her brother). This, though, was something he could try to put right.

It didn't really matter that the man was a stranger. It was enough to see the dignity he'd had, while his captors were taunting him like idiots, and to feel sure that he was innocent, nothing like a Champa pirate. Not that Felix himself was an expert on what pirates should be like, but it was telling that the town's Elder agreed (even if he couldn't persuade the whole populace).

The quickest way, of course, would have been to free the man by force right then and there. But how much good would that do, really? That was how the Proxians would have done it, but there were some habits Felix reused to pick up from them. Power turned some people into brutes, and an important goal gave some people an 'ends justify the means' mentality. He didn't want to be like that. It wasn't that he thought of himself as the opposite, some great hero of justice, but…he didn't want to put unnecessary weight on his conscience, either.

The imprisoned Water Adept could wait a bit longer, while they did things the proper way.

* * *

Felix remembered his first sight of a Lemurian ship, with its great dragon-head prow the colour of old ivory. He'd never seen any type of ship before, let alone the ocean, that vast plane of shifting blues and greys, the orchestra of waves and brisk, cool air with a pungent hint of salt. Pale shells and dark, fibrous seaweed crunched beneath his boots, mixed with other washed-up oddments he couldn't put names to. It could have been glorious, fascinating, if not for his recent trauma with the river, and the understanding that this ship would be a prison.

By then, he knew the scale-skinned man and woman by name, and a little of their mission (though the full truth wasn't revealed until later). They had come here with companions, seeking a way to save their distant homeland. The companions all perished in that unnatural storm over Vale. And so loss weighed down every soul, as they took to the sea.

The ship was bigger than any house Felix had ever been in, full of unfamiliar noises and a constant sense of motion, reminding him why he ought to resent it. They were bundled into spare cabins – once Saturos and Menardi had removed the personal belongings, of those who'd previously slept there. Not kept under lock and key, because what was the harm in them wandering around? They needed to wander, if they were to make themselves useful.

Menardi set Felix to fetching and carrying things, and snapped when he got lost. Once or twice he thought she was going to hit him, and went very still, which in turn seemed to stay her hand. Maybe she was surprised he didn't flinch. It was no special bravery, though; that was how he'd always reacted to things he didn't like. Once or twice she did actually hit him, but not nearly as hard as she could have. He didn't tell his parents. They'd get angry, try to even the score, and things would go badly for them. He could cope; stay silent and weather it, the way his element did.

During the day his parents cleaned and kept lookout, made repairs, moved heavy crates and barrels with Psynergy. At ports, they were allowed to go ashore with Saturos and barter for supplies, but Felix was kept on the ship with Menardi, as insurance. The most he could do was gaze towards the land, or at the ships moored alongside theirs, crowned with complicated structures of sail and rope where their own ship had none.

This was a Lemurian ship, Menardi said, though that word meant nothing to Felix. A skilled Water Adept could sail it alone, which is why there weren't many cabins, and Psynergy powered it, which is why they didn't need sails. But this one was a second-hand piece of junk; it needed more help staying afloat. Felix wondered if she'd stolen it, too, but was wise enough not to say so out loud.

One time, the shore party came back with four long-haired goats, which Saturos looked pleased with. Menardi called him an idiot, asked how they were meant to care for them, and said that some beasts wouldn't make up for their failure. Isaac's father knew how to keep them though, so that was another task for the captives. Felix helped feed them, but he didn't much like goats. They were too boisterous.

Of an evening, they huddled together and reassured each other that Jenna and Dora and Isaac were all okay, back home in Vale. They promised each other they'd survive this, and see them again someday. Felix nodded along, dutifully.

Still, when the first storm hit, he felt like he was going to die. It would almost have been welcome. He crawled into an empty room, curled up as the world rocked and spun around him, remembered being tossed about by that river like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. He vomited, and it burned his throat. After it calmed he took a little time to recover, then cleaned up and stoically went to help repair the damage. Didn't want anyone to worry (though they had anyway, wondering where he'd vanished to).

The journey dragged on, the weather grew harsher. Boulders of ice floating in the sea, hailstones stinging skin and slicking the deck, all the ship's blankets barely enough to keep out the chills. Saturos and Menardi were surprised at how severely cold affected their captives.

From the coastline they followed a frozen river, and then a path marked by ragged blue flags, guiding them to Prox.

* * *

At first glance, Piers' ship could have been the twin of Menardi's. The same size and shape, the same ivory dragon-head. Felix was relieved to begin spotting differences, as they cleared out the monsters that had infested it. Despite those monsters, this ship seemed to be in better condition, less of a 'second-hand piece of junk'. The room closest to the deck was kept in good order, with shelves of books and a rug of foreign design laid over the floorboards. The furniture wasn't battered or scarred, and nowhere smelled of goats.

What set him most at ease was Piers himself, his attitude as he walked around, putting things to order with a sense of renewed energy. Someone freed from trouble, looking forward to going home. Felix envied those feelings, but it was good to know he'd helped bring them about. It raised his hopes of winning his parents' freedom, seeing that same look on their faces too.

Initially, he was surprised when Piers told him to take the helm. Menardi had taken it in turns with Saturos to steer her ship, watching for sea monsters and fending them off, when they were out in open waters with no place to moor for the night. That was one duty they hadn't let anyone else share. But of course, Piers wasn't like them. There was trust here, even though they'd known each other for a much shorter time.

At first the whole group crowded around the wheel, excited by the novelty, but after a while the girls got bored and went looking for dolphins, and Kraden headed belowdecks to rest, leaving Felix alone under Piers' supervision. Steering a ship wasn't as complicated as Menardi made it sound, he thought. Or maybe he was getting overconfident.

"You can start taking us away from the coast, if you like," said Piers. The broad smile he'd had when they first set sail (figuratively speaking) had faded, but a glimmer of it lingered in his eyes. "Are you feeling more at home now?"

Felix gave him a questioning look, and so Piers added, "Ah, when we first boarded you seemed a little uncomfortable. I hoped this might remedy that."

That was unexpectedly thoughtful. Felix was more surprised by the analysis of his discomfort, though. People normally complained that he was difficult to read. "I've been on a Lemurian ship before," he said. Piers could take that however he wanted, either as an explanation of why Felix had felt strange, or an assertion that he was okay. Both were true, really.

"Oh? Not crewed by Lemurians, I would assume?"

"Fire Adepts."

He didn't know how much of the Saturos and Menardi story Piers had been told. Maybe someone like Kraden had filled him in on their history, but Felix had made no contributions, and wasn't about to start.

He turned his eyes to the horizon, the open water. Before it had felt threatening, confining, something that pulled him away from where he wanted to be. With the wheel in his own hands, the ship under his own control, it felt okay. Not quite the grand adventure the others saw it as, or the promise of homecoming it was for Piers, but nothing to feel bad about.

* * *

Prox wasn't as bad as they'd feared, in some ways. The town's chieftain, Puelle, was courteous and apologetic; they had been expecting a more warlike figure. The houses were solidly built to resist the elements, and they were allowed to stay together, given meals of steaming broth that were a welcome change from the ship's dry rations. The adults tried to focus on small, positive things like that, and Felix smiled blandly and scraped his bowl clean, because he knew that if he played along they'd feel more relaxed. It was his responsibility to do that. After all, they'd only been swept into the river because they were trying to rescue him.

Puelle might be more agreeable than Saturos and Menardi, and said he disliked the idea of hostages, but he couldn't persuade the others to take them home. They were allowed to wander as they wished, but venturing into the frozen, unknown wastes outside the town would have been suicidal, without a proper guide. The townsfolk gave them curious looks – most had never seen people without scales before – some distant and some cautiously friendly, sympathising with their plight.

As the days and weeks passed, they had no choice but to begin building lives there, amongst the never-ending snow.

Felix was often sick, during the first year there, a lingering weakness in his lungs from the water he'd inhaled, made worse by the climate. Still, he did what he could, not wanting to be a burden. He continued helping with the goats, even after his favourite, the quietest and most placid, fell sick too and died. The Proxians farmed a type of root vegetable, and while he'd never been especially good at gardening, these were hardy plants which didn't need an expert's touch. He learned how to build the arched shelters which kept snow off their leaves, how to soften the cold earth for digging when they were ready to be eaten.

He couldn't do anything with Psynergy. Since the river, his abilities had become stunted, stopped developing. He slept for longer, and spoke less and less. Even back in Vale, with his small group of friends, he'd never been chatty or outgoing, and the youth of Prox didn't know quite what to make of him.

Nobody was cruel to him, though. It would be easy to look back through a distorting fog of bitterness, and see Prox as a terrible place, but it wasn't. The adults all grew to know each other, finding common ground, and gifts were traded of food and firewood, of much-needed extra clothing. One woman made Felix a coat and gloves in the local style, which fit perfectly, though he never felt completely warm inside. Even Saturos and Menardi, now they were relieved of their burdens, had told of their failures and passed on condolences, grew more relaxed. When Menardi's little sister, Karst, first met Felix and said that he looked weak, Menardi told her not to be so rude about it.

He missed everything in Vale, terribly. Walking barefoot on soft grass, napping in the sun and waking up to Jenna's giggles, because she'd done something mischievous like pile leaves on him. Learning to swim in a shallow, slow-flowing stretch of the river, paddling through the water without fear. Climbing trees with Isaac and Garet, picking nuts or crisp, sweet apples and making secret maps to childish treasures.

Even the bad things, like when he'd fallen from a tree and dislocated his shoulder, had turned out okay. He hadn't understood just how happy a life that was, while he had it.

* * *

One of their more peculiar encounters in the Eastern Seas, was when they traded with a dog to gain a small turtle. It paddled uselessly at the air as Felix held it, studying it blankly. He was about to set it free in the water – having no clue what else to do with a turtle – when he noticed that one of the flippers was damaged, bitten. Not that the dog could be blamed for that; it was only following instinct, and didn't seem to be very well-fed, out on this bare islet.

Could it survive, with a damaged flipper? Something else Felix was clueless about. The area around the bite was swollen, possibly infected. The turtle looked up at him with round, black eyes. Wordlessly, he turned and walked back to the ship, turtle in hands.

By the time he had it installed in a half-barrel of water, inside his cabin, the others had gathered to see what he was doing. Jenna and Sheba were smitten, cooing over its cuteness and poor hurt flipper. Piers had less to say; presumably turtles weren't new to him. Felix watched it swim in a slow circle around the edge of the barrel, nosing at the wood. It moved lopsidedly, though he'd already cast Cure on it.

"What do turtles eat?" he asked Piers.

"I'm not certain. Squid, perhaps? Or some kind of underwater vegetation."

"Like seaweed?"

"Seaweed, yes. That sounds about right."

Felix nodded. The next time their boat was attacked, he knelt down to cut pieces off one of the monster carcasses, rather than bailing them over the side as usual (ignoring Jenna's cries that he was being gross). The turtle gobbled the meat up greedily, and seemed equally happy when seaweed was offered to it. Its wound looked slightly better, after another Cure.

Turtles were nice creatures, quiet and uncomplaining. Felix liked them.

Over the next week, feeding times stopped being 'gross' and became a point of interest for everyone (there wasn't much to do, out on the open seas). This led to repeat invasions of Felix's cabin, so he moved the half-barrel to a common room, the one with books and carpets and plenty of space for people to crowd around.

"Why don't we just keep him, like a pet?" Jenna asked, arms folded over her knees as she crouched beside the barrel.

"We can't do that," Felix said. He didn't know how she'd decided the turtle was male – guesswork, presumably. He wondered if she'd named it, as well, but wasn't going to ask.

"Aww, but why? He looks happy here! And he might get hurt again if we let him go."

"Even so, it's not meant to live in a barrel."

Jenna sighed loudly, giving her best little-sister pout. Sometimes that worked, but not on this issue.

At the Sea of Time Islet, everyone piled up their boots and cloaks to walk barefoot on the warm sand, under the lazy, humid skies of perfect blue. Jenna and Sheba collected shells, skirts rolled up to stop the hems getting wet, while Kraden sat talking to the old men who lived in the Islet's hut, under the shade of palm trees. Felix wandered off by himself, finding a dry, raised bank near the sea's edge, to watch the small turtle paddling with the bigger one. It was okay that it got hurt and held for a while, because now it was freed in a better place, with a friend. He liked that line of thought.

"It's odd," Piers said. Felix hadn't noticed him approach, but didn't startle at the sound of his voice. "I'd heard that turtles aren't normally social creatures. But those two seem to be getting along well."

Felix looked up at him for a moment, shading his eyes against the sunlight, then nodded.

* * *

One day Felix was heading to the goat-shed, staggering with the heavy buckets that held their morning feed, steam rising from the cooked mash of vegetable scraps. The route took him past a bare, empty field, and in the field was his father, swinging a sword against Saturos. His first emotion was panic, thinking it was a fight, knowing his father couldn't win against a warrior like that. He froze up, then realised he was witnessing something else. Saturos was showing off simple moves, then getting Felix's father to copy them. Teaching him, but why?

He gave the goats their food, then went to see his mother. She was with one of the older Proxian ladies, sitting by the hearth in his family's house (given to them because the previous owners had died, with nobody left to inherit; folk in Prox tried not to let sentiment rule over practicality). They were making a pair of boots, sewing waterproof hide with thick needles that glinted in the firelight. The hides came from beasts the warriors hunted, out in the tundra, giant oxen and brown bears. Felix had never seen them himself, not alive.

"Hello, Felix," said the lady. She treated him as younger than he really was, but he liked her. Sometimes she invited them to dinner, and made good meals out of the fish eggs and other weird things Proxians ate. He gave her a polite nod.

"What's father doing?"

"You saw him with Saturos?" his mother asked, a shadow of worry creeping across her face. "Well… We were going to tell you later, but I suppose saying it now won't hurt."

"Would you like a moment alone?" asked the lady, putting down her needle, but Felix's mother raised a hand to stop her from moving.

"It's all right. Perhaps you could help me with the first part, actually?"

And so he heard the full story of Saturos and Menardi's quest, the erosion of Gaia Falls caused by Alchemy's decline, the need to restore the four elemental lighthouses. The part Vale played in this, as the gateway to Sol Sanctum. The research the elders of Prox had continued with, since that last failure. And now their belief that to enter each lighthouse, an Adept of the corresponding element was needed.

Fire Adepts were no problem, of course. As for Venus Adepts, it was too convenient to have some located here in Prox. So Felix's father struck a deal – he would travel back to Vale with Saturos and Menardi, help them raid Sol Sanctum and light the Venus Lighthouse, and in return they would all be set free, escorted home.

Felix absorbed this information, then turned around and walked back outside. Past his father in the field again, down to the river. This one was frozen, power and fury smothered under a skin of ice that had to be broken every time someone wanted water (he was never given that task, ever). But it was the same river, at the heart of it. It reminded him why he was here.

He hadn't even been brought along to listen, when the adults were told of the quest. It wasn't his father's responsibility to get them out of this, to train with swords and go off on dangerous missions (because clearly it would be dangerous, if he needed to be armed). It was Felix's, and _he _was a Venus Adept, or was supposed to be. He should be the one who made things right.

* * *

He expected quite a lot from Lemuria, after all Kraden's tales, after how eager Piers was to return. Then again, he also knew how nostalgia could build things up. The Vale he'd raided for Elemental Stars wasn't the fondly-remembered Vale of his childhood. Perhaps that was a place he could never return to, after all that had happened since he was stolen away.

It was certainly pretty, he'd give it that. Butterflies flitted between marble pillars, the sort of fine architecture he'd never seen outside of the lighthouses before – but architecture was Kraden's field. Felix liked how quiet it was. He'd never thought such a quiet city could exist, streets free from chatter or quarrels or running children. Shops were few and sombre-looking, as if they didn't much care how many customers they lured in. The people were calm and dignified, like Piers, but oddly disinterested in strangers.

Maybe it was just politeness, but it also felt like sluggishness, torpor. In the long term it might become suffocating, but in the short term it was nice, knowing trouble was unlikely to break out. After a tense voyage through the fog and swift currents, Felix felt relaxed. Until they reached the house of Piers' family, at least. After that, it was hard to feel quite so carefree.

He imagined if that were him, returning to Prox after lighting every beacon, only to find something had happened to his parents. The idea sickened him. It wasn't even that he was tremendously close to them, outside of their circumstances. But they'd raised him, tried to save him from harm, and look where it had led. It was his duty as a son to send them back home, where they'd be happy. Even if he didn't go with them, he was sure that with Jenna and their other friends and family around, they'd be happy enough.

As for Piers… By the time they got an audience with the king, he seemed to have collected himself. Felix had no idea if he was actually okay or not. Sometimes the best way of dealing with pain was simply getting on with your goals in life, letting that distract you.

That night they stayed on the ship, moored in the Lemurian docks, because there were no inns to accommodate them. Even if it was safe to sail away in the dark, it was quietly agreed that they should let Piers have a little more time in his homeland. Nobody seemed in a hurry to enforce Conservato's threat of banishment, at least not yet.

Piers didn't come back to the ship at nightfall. Felix knew, because he would have heard footsteps in the corridor between their cabins. Unable to sleep himself, he snuck back into Lemuria. Not necessarily looking for Piers, just walking under the stars, in the streets of slowly crumbling grandeur. No taverns or theatres open late, everyone tucked placidly in their beds. No guards patrolling to keep the peace, since it was probably never broken. Lamplight in a window, a lilt of distant music, the only signs of life.

He deliberately avoided the graveyard, not wanting to interrupt any mourning rite. When he tried returning to the ship, however, he found Piers sitting outside the building that led to the docks, holding something half-wrapped in red cloth.

"Ah," he looked surprised, but not unhappy. "Felix. I hope my absence wasn't worrying you."

"Just wanted some fresh air." Felix stood near him, leaning against the wall, not sitting down without more of an invitation to.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do here. He looked at the thing in Piers' arms, trying to figure out what it was, and Piers noticed his interest. The cloth was pulled aside, revealing an elaborately carved horseshoe-shaped item, with rows of strings between two sides.

"That's nice." Felix paused, then asked, "What is it?"

"You don't have these elsewhere in the world? It's a harp. A musical instrument."

"Can you play it?"

Piers nodded, but didn't demonstrate. "My mother taught me. They say that nobody should go to sea without an instrument as company." So maybe that harp had been his mother's, or a gift she'd meant to give him when he came home. Silence for a while, and then, "I know our long lives are coveted by the rest of the world, those few who remember we exist. We are blessed to have far more time with our loved ones. Yet still we mourn when they pass, and wish for ever more."

Felix hoped he wasn't meant to say anything greatly wise and comforting, in response to that. Nothing was springing to mind.

It had taken two months to collect and forge the Trident parts, exploring ruins and learning new Psynergies. There had been enough lulls for the group to talk and grow familiar, but he didn't press personal questions on anyone, and didn't answer them; nor did he volunteer information about himself. He'd listened though, when they were all together and Kraden was asking about Lemurian culture, or Jenna wanted to know if Piers had siblings. He'd been interested. And when it was just the two of them, himself and Piers, the silences between them had always been companionable. He hoped this one was seen in the same way.

Piers looked up at him, giving a slight smile. "I apologise, Felix. You didn't ask to hear this. Shall we go back to the ship?"

Felix offered a hand to help Piers to his feet. It was almost dawn, cool grey light over the ocean. After he stepped into his cabin, he paused for a few seconds, then looked back out into the corridor, just in time to hear Piers' door close.

* * *

When he put himself forward as the one who'd travel to Venus Lighthouse, his parents were appalled. Saturos laughed, not even taking it seriously. But in the end, Felix got his way. He set sail with his two original kidnappers, and nobody else; Prox's population had been too badly dented by the losses of their first mission. If they spared any more, the remaining people would starve.

He was still no equal to the Proxians, and knew it. But he could handle a sword decently, and had forced his Psynergy into life, after months of constant, stubborn practice. That was enough.

There was debate over whether they should first steal the Elemental Stars, or search for Jupiter and Mercury Adepts. Though Felix knew his vote didn't count for much, he was in favour of the latter, and that was what they ended up doing. Since the Mars Lighthouse had a population of Fire Adepts at its foot, they assumed the same pattern might follow with the others.

Jupiter Lighthouse had the Anemos Sanctum nearby, but they found no trace of Adepts, and caused a fuss in Congito with the inelegance of their search. Felix was glad when they left. He understood that the Proxian motives were essentially good, trying to save their hometown and in the process all of Weyard, but he didn't think that was an excuse to treat people so harshly. He stayed in the background, the place he'd become used to.

The three of them were just enough to keep the ship running. He took a lot of the lookout shifts, watching the seas for signs of monsters, storms or other hazards. Partly because his vision was the sharpest, and partly because he liked the feel of the air as they travelled south, into warmer climates. No snow constantly spitting into his face, no need for coats so thick they hampered his movements. The storms, when they came, were still a force to dread, but he survived them.

It was a shame when the temperature started to drop again, a Nothern bite returning to the air. They approached the small, snow-swathed town of Imil, at the foot of Mercury Lighthouse. That was where they found Alex.


End file.
